Tempting as Sin (Sinful, Montana Book 2)

by Rosalind James

  Something was happening in her chest. Her lungs, tightening in the familiar anxiety response, squeezing out her breath. Why? How was that a big deal? Bailey was an eight-year-old child. She’d found something more fun to do, and she didn’t have a phone to let them know.

  Not Bailey.

  “Before you ask,” Rafe said, “I have Chuck with me again, and I went by her grandmother’s place. I’m here now, in fact. Nobody home. I don’t see Bailey’s bike, either. Same car in the driveway, though, so maybe her grandma’s at a neighbor’s.”

  “Without her car?” Lily said. “That seems odd. She didn’t seem like she walked much of anywhere. Including to the neighbor’s. And Bailey didn’t have her helmet. I should have bought her a new bike, and never mind going slow and not spooking her. One where she could reach the pedals better. If she fell off, without a helmet…”

  She looked at her jars of jam, cooling in a roasting pan. She needed to clean this up, then finish her goat cheese, which was hanging in its cheesecloth from a rack near the sink right now, the whey dripping into a bowl. She’d planned to roll it in herbs. She also needed to do her hand washing, so she could hang it on the line once Rafe came back, since she didn’t want to go out there alone.

  Except that she was grabbing her keys and her purse anyway. She never went out in her grubby clothes, and she sure didn’t go out with a bruised face and no makeup, but it looked like she was doing it anyway. “I’m coming down,” she said. “We should look for her. Just in case. It’s not like her at all. Is it?”

  “No,” he said. “It’s not. I don’t have a great feeling either. But don’t come down. I’ll come up and get you.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah. I do. Lily,” he continued when she would have said something, “it’ll take ten minutes, and at least one of those photographers is probably still out on your road. The only one who isn’t set up outside the store watching Martin have the time of his life, or interviewing the kid in the ice-cream shop. Besides, you’ll want to leave Chuck in the house. Much cooler.”

  “You need to go running,” she said.

  An exhalation of breath, and she could hear the patience he was forcing. “Lily.”

  “All right,” she said, and headed upstairs to change. “You’re right. I’ll wait for you.”

  When Rafe pulled to the curb beside the trailer and parked, everything looked the same to Lily. Same rust-spattered Pontiac baking in the sun. Same sagging, broken latticework apron around the trailer’s lower edges. Same stairs, dusted with tiny fir cones and needles like nobody had swept them in years.

  The photographer had followed them and was shooting now. She didn’t care. She led the way up the steps and knocked, but she could already tell there was nobody home. No TV. She tried the door. Locked.

  “Back door,” she told Rafe.

  “Are we breaking in?” he asked, but he followed her around the trailer. “Seems extreme. Especially on camera.”

  “No,” she said. “We’re walking in.” The back door was unlocked. She lifted the little paper bag she held. “So I can leave a jar of jam on the kitchen counter. Fine old country tradition.”

  The air in the trailer held the same smoky staleness as it had before, and that sense of stillness that spoke of no human presence. The oxygen tank was gone, a yellow blanket and a pillow lay crumpled, half-on, half-off the couch, and the ashtray was full of butts. As if Ruby had gone out for a minute. There was a pack of Camels on the table next to the ashtray, though, and it was only half full. A smoker like that never left without her cigarettes, in Lily’s experience.

  Rafe said, “That’s it, then. Nobody home.”

  “Hang on,” Lily said. “I want to check Bailey’s room.”

  She walked through the kitchen, peered through a half-open door, and saw a double bed with a shiny, puffy gold spread, dull with age, thrown back over a green blanket and flowered sheets. A gilt dresser missing one of its handles, and framed pictures above it. Not Bailey’s room.

  “Other one,” she told Rafe, and took the few steps through the kitchen and past the couch. The door on that side was closed. She opened it to find a tiny room filled with slightly stale air that spoke of not enough laundry and not enough cleaning, even though the window was open. A single bed with no blanket, just some white sheets turned nearly gray with lack of laundering, and a pillow without a case. A closet, one of its doors off the runners, held nothing except a few wire hangers, a dresser, and a few pairs of discarded underwear and socks in a pathetic pile. Lily opened a drawer and found tangled shirts and a single pair of jeans, plus a couple more pairs of underwear. She closed it again and said, “She left.”

  Rafe, who’d been leaning against the doorframe, said, “Uh…” and scratched his cheek.

  “Yes, but it’s not just her backpack that’s gone,” Lily explained. “Her new clothes aren’t here, either. And surely she’d own a coat. It’s Montana. That’s odd.” Her chest was tight again. If Bailey’s grandma had taken off with her, why was the car still here? On the other hand, did the car even run? What if a friend had driven them?

  Or a boyfriend after all, a voice inside whispered. Women tended to make the same mistakes over and over, and she’d bet that was one Ruby had made plenty. The way Bailey had stiffened when she’d thought Rafe would touch her…

  No.

  “Come on,” she told Rafe, who was watching. Waiting. “Let’s find out if anybody saw them.”

  Outside the trailer, though, she looked him over. Mountaineers hat, sunglasses, collared plaid Western-yoked shirt. “Would you mind,” she asked him, “being yourself? In case it helps?”

  His head came up, but all he said was, “No worries. My cover’s well and truly blown anyway.” He went over to the car and took off the hat and the glasses, then unsnapped the shirt and tossed everything into the back seat before reaching into the glove compartment for a little white case and carefully stowing the contacts.

  When he turned around again, he’d changed. Clothes. Posture. Face. Everything. White T-shirt, Wranglers, and boots. Silver-blue eyes, all that arm and chest muscle on view, and everything about him tougher and harder. He reached a hand up and ruffled his hair so it spiked and said, “Ready.” The photographer behind them snapped away like a fiend, and Rafe never looked at him.

  At the trailer to the right, a more up-to-date and much neater doublewide, nobody was home, or if they were, they weren’t answering.

  The trailer to the left, then. This one was blue to Ruby’s red-trimmed white, but it wasn’t in much better shape. A bed of sharp white rocks served in lieu of a front lawn, and the latticework around the foundation wasn’t broken. When Lily headed up the steps, a dog started barking. It didn’t sound friendly.

  Rafe said, “Hang on. Let me go first.” He reached around her and rang the doorbell, and the barking escalated to fever pitch before a thunk against the glass to the left of the door heralded the crashing arrival of a brindled dog with small eyes and cropped ears. On the couch, presumably, with its paws on the back, and barking its blocky head off.

  A woman’s voice, then, a sharp tone to it. Yelling at the dog. Rafe rang the bell again, and the woman might as well have saved her efforts, because the barking got even more hysterical.

  “Whatever you’re selling,” the woman said through the door when the noise had died down a little, “I don’t want it.”

  “It’s Rafe Blackstone,” Rafe said. “The actor.”

  A face at the window, then, above the dog’s. Thirtyish, thin, and blonde. Rafe lifted his hand to her and gave a little wave, and her expression changed. Some crashing, some swearing, and twenty seconds later, she opened the door to the accompaniment of slightly muffled frenzied barking and said, “What the hell? Really?” She looked beyond him to see the photographer. “Oh, wow. Wow. Is this some publicity stunt or what?”

  “No stunt,” Rafe said, “just a visit. Mind if we come in?” He inclined his head at Lily. She was gl
ad now that she’d changed her clothes. She’d gone for the peacock-blue dress with the shirring at the waist, and heels, too, in case it helped. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it looked Hollywood-glamorous, especially with her diva-sized dark glasses.

  The woman barely looked at her. She was too busy looking at Rafe. “Uh…sure,” she said, stepping back and letting them inside. She picked up a pile of clothes that had been on the couch and tossed them to the floor. “Sorry about the mess. I was just, uh, cleaning. Sit down. Do you want coffee or anything?”

  Rafe looked absolutely calm. Absolutely in control. He gave her some more of his relaxed smile and said, “The place looks fine,” before he sat on her couch. Legs a little spread, forearms on his knees, beautiful hands interlaced, and an expression on his face like the blonde was the woman he most wanted to see in the world. “We appreciate it. I was wondering if you could give me some information about your neighbor.”

  The blonde blinked at him. “My neighbor?”

  Rafe inclined his head to the right, in the direction of Ruby’s trailer. “Ruby Johnson. I’m here to see her, actually, and her granddaughter. They won a contest.” He grinned. A little cocky, a little sheepish. “I’m the prize.”

  A contest? This was the stupidest thing Lily had ever heard. She nodded earnestly, though, and said, “That’s right. The studio brought him all the way up here, and our winners aren’t around.”

  The blonde didn’t waste any energy looking her way. “Oh,” she said. “No. The ambulance came for her last night. If she’s not home, she’s probably still in the hospital.”

  Oh, no.

  Rafe extricated himself at the price of a selfie with the blonde, then jumped in the car with Lily and took off with the photographer still following doggedly. Twenty minutes, driving at Lily’s direction, to the hospital on the outskirts of Kalispell.

  Lily said, “This doesn’t explain why some of Bailey’s things are gone. You don’t stop to pack a suitcase when the ambulance comes.”

  “Never mind,” he said. “We’ll see.”

  Their journey ended at the nurses’ station of the ICU, a circular desk surrounded by five or six rooms, most with their doors closed. And not all the werewolf’s charm was budging the woman behind the desk.

  “If you’re not family,” she said, “I can’t tell you anything other than that she’s here, and that her condition is obviously serious. That’s what the ICU is for. And I’ll ask you to put that away,” she told the guy with the camera, a snap in her voice. “I didn’t give my permission to be filmed, and neither did anybody else here.”

  “Can we see her?” Lily asked, ignoring the photographer as she had all along.

  “No,” the nurse said. “Unless she’s able to give consent to your visit, and right now, she isn’t.”

  “You don’t understand,” Lily said. “Her granddaughter lives with her, and she’s been missing since yesterday. She’s only eight. I need to find out if she came in with her.”

  The nurse’s expression softened some. “I appreciate that you’re upset. I still can’t tell you anything about the patient, though. Confidentiality laws. I can tell you that I don’t know anything about a granddaughter. I haven’t seen anybody like that, though I wasn’t on duty last night, of course. No kids at all in here today.”

  “So she came in last night?” Rafe asked.

  “Yes. And I’m sorry, but that’s all I’ve got.”

  They walked away, in the end. They checked the entire hospital again, including the ladies’ rooms and the cafeteria, the photographer walking in front of them periodically to take another picture.

  No Bailey.

  “What do we do now?” Lily asked.

  “Let’s sit down,” Rafe said. “Get a coffee. And think about it.”

  It helped. “OK,” she said when they were seated in a corner, both facing the wall, on the kind of uncomfortable plastic chairs hospitals specialized in. “Bailey doesn’t have other family that we know of. Her grandma gets taken away by ambulance in the night. She’s eight, and she’s alone. What happens then? The state steps in. The county. Whoever.”

  “Makes sense,” Rafe said. “Explains the missing clothes.” When she pulled out her phone, he asked, “Calling the agency? Whatever it is?”

  “No,” she said. “Hoping for a workaround.”

  It took Maggie three rings to answer. “Hey,” she finally said. “Hi, Lily.” Sounding stiff. Cautious.

  Wait, what?

  “Did the date not work out?” Lily asked.

  “No. No, it was great.” A long pause. “Right, I need to tell you this. I outed you. Well, I outed Rafe Blackstone. Obviously, he was trying to be anonymous. I saw that, and I did anyway. Sorry.”

  Lily blinked. Not what she’d been expecting to hear. “You did? How?”

  “Loose lips,” Maggie said. “I just meant to tell my rancher, but I’d probably had a little too much to drink, and I was a little drunk on the evening anyway, if you know what I mean. It was noisy, though, and I had to scream, and, of course, it was a bar, and it’s Kalispell. Other people heard, and we were all talking about it, and I realized afterwards that one of them was the anchor for Channel 7. Which I knew, but at the time…what can I say. Rafe Blackstone is big news right now. And, honey, are you sure? He looks great, of course, nobody better, but that video of him online…I’m not trying to put my nose in your business, but when somebody never even mentions her absolutely world-famous ex, not even to tell me what a son of a bitch he is, before they’re even divorced, there’s a reason. I can tell ‘gun-shy’ when I see it, and it’s you. Except with Rafe Blackstone. You obviously have a thing for actors, and I don’t blame you, but I wouldn’t call him the best bet.”

  “Wait. No,” Lily said. “I mean—all right, now I know how everybody found out. Although honestly, it could have been anybody who noticed. There aren’t actually that many men in the world that gorgeous, and his picture is everywhere. I’m glad you told me, though. I was thinking it was Hailey. It’s been worrying me, because I thought we were friends.”

  “Ouch,” Maggie said.

  “No,” Lily said. “I meant Hailey and me, and she did know Rafe was keeping it quiet. Never mind. Stuff happens, it’s done now, and I didn’t ask you not to talk about him.”

  “Too generous,” Maggie said, “but all right. Phew. Thanks. I’ve known I needed to call you, and, well…I just haven’t.”

  “If you feel bad,” Lily said, “you can help me. Please. That’s why I called. I need a favor. A lawyer favor.”

  Maggie exhaled. “OK. Shoot. I hope it’s something I can do, ethically.”

  “I can’t see why not. I need information about a child who might have been put into the…the child protection system last night. I can’t remember what it’s called. Her guardian is in the hospital, and nobody seems to know what happened to the girl.”

  “Child and Family Services,” Maggie said. “Right. Here’s what I can do. I’ll call a family law attorney I know, and see if she can hook you up with somebody. How urgent is this?”

  “It’s right now,” Lily said. “She’s out there, and I don’t know where.”

  Fifteen minutes and a cup of cold coffee later, she was on the phone with Audrey Featherstone, the district administrator for the agency. “No,” Audrey said. “She’s in the system, but with her grandmother as her guardian. Last night? Nothing. Are you sure she isn’t with family? A friend?”

  “There is no family,” Lily said. “And what she has, as far as I know, is a dog. Well, I have the dog. She loves that dog more than anything, and she comes to get him every day. She didn’t come this morning, she didn’t go to the hospital with her grandmother, and she’s not at home.”

  “Right,” Audrey said. “I’m making a note. We’ll start looking.”

  “Thanks. Will you let me know? I’d be happy to take her until her grandmother’s able to.” If her grandmother were able. The anxiety was there, squeezing her chest again. Wha
t if Ruby didn’t make it? Intensive care didn’t sound good. What would happen to Bailey then? Nothing good. “I don’t know why she wouldn’t have come to me.”

  “Mm,” Audrey said. “Give me your address. I’ll make a note.”

  Lily gave it and hung up, and Rafe said, “So. No joy.”

  “No.” Lily got up from the table and picked up their paper cups. “At least we know she isn’t in the hospital herself.” Or worse. She thought about Bailey’s bike, and about a car, and thrust the image away. They’d know that, too, surely. It would be in the system, even if they didn’t know who Bailey was. It was a small town, and an accident involving a child would be big news.

  Missing, her mind tried to say, and she shoved that back, too, and said, “I think what we do now is—we take a look ourselves. If they don’t have her? I’d sure like to find her.”

  Rafe was an optimistic fella. He always had been. That was why, before they did anything else, he drove back by Ruby’s place again and walked right in that back door with Lily, called Martin at the shop to check whether Bailey had turned up there, and finally drove up to Lily’s again and got out, ignoring the stubborn bloke who’d recorded them doing all of it in what had to be the most boring set of snaps ever taken.

  Bailey wasn’t at her grandma’s. She wasn’t in the cottage, she wasn’t in the shed with the goats, and she hadn’t been by the shop.

  “Why wouldn’t she have come here?” Lily asked. She was standing next to the car up at the house, her arms wrapped around her middle, and wearing sunglasses, as she had been all day. Rafe could see the exhaustion and anxiety as plainly, though, as if she’d screamed it. “Or at least the shop? If she’d wanted to hide, why wouldn’t she have hidden here? Surely she’d have come to me. I didn’t ask about accidents. I think I need to ask now. Specifically.”

  Rafe ushered Chuck into the back of the car. If you were looking for somebody, you used a dog. Stood to reason. “Wait a wee while before you go there,” he said. “Let’s check first. If we still can’t find her, we won’t bother with a social worker. We’ll go to the police.”